


Of Longing and Heartache and Lust

by Llama1412



Series: Found Family Plottiness [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Drug Use, F/M, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, M/M, Multi, Pining Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Post-Season/Series 01, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23984854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: After having lost both of his lovers on the mountain, Geralt must work to rebuild trust and mend their relationships if he has any chance at being with them ever again. Meanwhile, Jaskier and Yennefer slowly adjust to their new circumstances and Geralt's attempts at wooing.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Found Family Plottiness [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676068
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had 4 hours of sleep, but for some reason, I'm awake and writing.
> 
> This takes place roughly concurrently with [Into the Woods](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23865598/chapters/57365563). That fic focuses more on plot, while this one is pure relationship development.

Geralt knew he’d fucked up. Well, it had been obvious to anyone around (really just Borsch) that Geralt had fucked up massively when both his companions stormed out on him. After the yelling, of course. Geralt wished he could take back the yelling.

But what was done was done. He couldn’t change the past.

Jaskier had miraculously accepted his apology. So all Geralt had to do was be better in the future. He could do that.

Right?

––

Jaskier had forgiven him. He smiled at Geralt just as he always had, he still touched Geralt softly, resting a hand on his arm or throwing an arm around his shoulders. 

But there was a hesitation there now that hadn’t been there before. It took Geralt time to figure out why, what exactly had changed. It had taken Ciri to bluntly point out, “you hurt him, Geralt. Uncle Jaskier came to Cintra after that, you know. He wasn’t himself at all, it was really scary! Grandmother helped him deal with it, but he said you hurt him on purpose.” She looked up at him solemnly. “He still cares about you. But he doesn’t trust that that’s enough anymore. You have to earn his trust back.”

“How do I do that?” Geralt managed to ask – and if the words had only come after hoping Ciri would telepathically pick up on his thoughts, no one needed to know that.

Ciri shrugged. “How would I know? My only – well, the only one I cared about like that had to leave. I hope she survived.” Ciri’s gaze dropped to the ground, her shoulders curling in on herself.

Geralt stepped forward. He didn’t know how to do this parenting thing, but when he got upset, Jaskier usually touched him, gave him comfort by pressing into his side. He could do that for Ciri. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and when she didn’t draw away, he pulled her into his chest and wrapped her in a hug.

Ciri’s head came to rest under his chin, her face buried in his collar. “Does it ever stop hurting?” she whispered.

Geralt squeezed her, ever so gently. His strength was more than that of a human’s. He couldn’t risk accidentally crushing her. “Sort of.” He sighed. “It...becomes less present? Like a scab – it still hurts, but if you don’t scratch at it, it’s okay.” Geralt had never been the poetic one, but he hoped his words many some sort of sense. “It scars over eventually. Always there, but less...I don’t know, less.”

Ciri nodded against him as if his rambling had been coherent. “I want it to be less now. It hurts so much,” Ciri’s voice was the most timid he’d ever heard from her, and Geralt decided then and there that he would do everything in his power to keep her from ever sounding like that again.

He rested his chin on the top of Ciri’s head and just held her. Sometimes, that was all the comfort that could be given.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier knows the story of the century lies in whatever happened at Sodden Hill. Lucky for him, he just happens to run into Yennefer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after chapter 2 of [Into the Woods](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23865598/chapters/57365563), but the main thing you need to know is that her magic at the Battle of Sodden Hill cost Yennefer her transformation. She is now back in her original body.

Jaskier had honestly been looking for a good place to smoke without offending the dryads with the smell of burning. They seemed a wee bit protective of their trees, and they already weren’t the fondest of men, so Jaskier felt it best to avoid their ire.

He’d picked up his smoking habit at Oxenfurt, where he discovered certain herbs made it easier for him to actually _focus_. Suddenly, he started passing his classes, and Jaskier had smoked heavily since.

At first, Jaskier had tried to use it less, tried to be considerate of the extreme Witcher senses he’d heard rumored about. But he needed to _write_ , and to really focus and write, he needed to get high.

Geralt didn’t love the smell of it, so Jaskier always tried to stay downwind of him. Fortunately, Geralt insisted that, “you get used to certain smells eventually.” Jaskier thought it might also be that Geralt worried about how scatterbrained Jaskier was without the herbs. Jaskier didn’t particularly like it either.

Anyway, Jaskier had tried to resist the urge to get high and hyperfocus on writing music, he really had. But the _potential_ – Ciri was a princess who had escaped tragedy! He himself had been tortured for information on the man who had broken his heart! Mousesack had been cloned and used to trap Ciri! The inspiration was unending.

And then there was Yennefer. Jaskier didn’t have the full story yet, but their passage through Sodden Hill had given him enough hints to know that there was an incredible story hidden in there. And he _needed_ it, he needed to write it and bring it to life in song.

So he hadn’t meant to seek Yennefer out when looking for a clearing to smoke in. Jaskier chose to believe Fate had set their paths on course to meet at this fortuitous time: he would be able to get high and get Yennefer’s story, and hey, maybe she might like a little herb herself. Yennefer had been doing some sort of stretch with her teacher when their group had first seen her in the Forest. Jaskier had no idea what had happened to leave her hunchbacked, but he could imagine the mobility restrictions that came with. He himself tended to stretch several times a day just to keep himself flexible. His years on the road with Geralt had certainly built up his strength, but walking all day could destroy one’s body if they didn’t stretch properly. Jaskier had learned that lesson early on.

Yennefer glared at him, but he was pretty sure that was her default expression towards him, so Jaskier ignored it. “Yennefer,” he nodded to her.

“Jaskier,” her voice was disdainful, but again, that was sort of Yennefer’s default. “What do you want?”

“I actually had no idea you were here. _But_ , since you are, can I ask you about the Battle?” Jaskier was perhaps a little overeager, but he could smell the song of the century here!

Yennefer blinked at him, and he was pretty sure this expression meant surprise. She had always been difficult to read beyond the stone-cold-bitch surface. “I look like this now and you’re asking about the battle?”

Jaskier shrugged, “I mean, I assume the two are related, but from what they said at Sodden Hill, the mages literally saved the Continent. And given _something_ obviously happened to you, I’m betting you not only know the story, but were at the center of it.”

Yennefer snorted. “That’s one way to put it.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know who is alive or dead, Bard. I cannot talk about this sober.”

Jaskier grimaced. Okay, yeah, he’d been pretty inconsiderate. But if sobriety was the problem, “I actually came out here to smoke. You want some?” He pulled out his pipe and began to fill the bowl with ground herb. “I use it to help me focus and for fun, but I hear it’s supposed to work great for pain, too.”

“Yeah, I’ve used it for years,” Yennefer hummed. Then, with a look of horror on her face, “ that is the ugliest pipe I have ever seen.”

“Isn’t it great?” Jaskier grinned. “It’s carved to look like a leshen’s dick. Geralt hates it – apparently it’s ‘not anatomically correct’.” He made quotes in the air with one hand.

“How would he know?” Yennefer raised an eyebrow.

“That’s what I said!” Jaskier threw his hands in the air and exclaimed. Yennefer watched his pipe move with caution.

“Oh, what the fuck, give it here. I have no idea what happened to my own pipe.” Yennefer made grabby hands at the promised drugs.

He willingly passed over the carved wooden pipe, and made a show of “conjuring” a flame from the magical firestarter hidden up his sleeve. Yennefer rolled her eyes, but let him light the pipe for her, inhaling deeply. Jaskier shook his arm to extinguish the flame before his sleeve caught fire – his poor clothing had already been through enough, what with the Nilfgaardian interrogation and imprisonment and now their rapid flight from Cintra to Brokilon.

Yennefer passed him the pipe and Jaskier felt his mind calm, speeding thoughts slowly winding down until he could _focus_ on one at a time. He exhaled slowly and asked, “So, what happened to your pipe?”

She gave a short laugh. “Well, apparently I burned out my body or something and had to be reformed by the fucking magic tree here.”

Jaskier blinked. “Huh, okay.” He took another hit, because this seemed like a conversation that would need it. “I didn’t lose my body or whatever, but I did lose most of my stuff. I’m just glad my herbs and my notebook were stored in my lute case!”

Yennefer snorted inelegantly, and he passed the pipe back to her. Jaskier liked when she dropped her illusion of poise and just _reacted._ It made her seem less like a terrifying witch.

“How did you even end up here, anyway?” Jaskier asked. “At the keep, they said you were missing.”

Yennefer took another hit from the pipe and sighed. “It’s a long, painful story. But if it will stop you bugging me,” she rolled her good shoulder and made herself comfortable on the root they’d claimed as a bench. “It started when the Northern Mages called a conclave…”

Jaskier listened intently as Yennefer told her story, scribbling down notes. But a part of his mind couldn’t help but notice the way her lips moved as she spoke. Unadorned with the usual dark paint she favored, her mouth twisted up one one side, but her voice sounded the same – still as full of disdain for idiots who got in her way and still with that undercurrent of _power_ that was the first thing he’d ever noticed about her – well, the first thing he’d noticed after he’d stopped fearing for his life. It might have been their second meeting before he noticed it, but the point was, when he thought of Yennefer, what came to mind was that power, that sense of ambition that surrounded her like an aura.

Jaskier wanted to put that power into his music. He wanted to see what they could make combined.

Besides, this story was shaping up to be at least 3 ballads. “Wait wait wait, so you– what, just dissolved and then this Shan-Kayan recreated you, but without your mage transformation thing?”

Yennefer snorted. “Pretty much.” She saluted him with the pipe and took another deep draw. 

“That’s fucked up.” Jaskier looked her over. She certainly looked different without the ethereal quality to her beauty, but there was no denying the fierceness in her eyes. Her spine may be twisted, her back hunched, and her movement limited, but Jaskier wouldn’t bet against her in a fight.

He thought back on Yennefer casually saying that she’d used herbs for years after he mentioned their pain relief effects. “Does it hurt?” Jaskier asked softly.

Yennefer inhaled sharply. “What do you mean?” She asked carefully.

He shrugged, “I mean, I’m pretty limber for my age, but I have to do a lot of work to keep it that way. And I started out in pretty good shape and have had years to build the routine. But you just got suddenly forced into a body you thought you’d never see again, and even if you’d been doing stretches or whatever to improve your mobility, you likely haven’t done them recently. So…” Jaskier waved his hands ineffectively. “Does it hurt?”

Yennefer’s eyes fell closed and she let out a deep breath, sinking down against their makeshift bench. “Yes, it hurts.” She opened her eyes and turned to look at him. “Tissaia used to help me do my stretches, when I was young. When I had this body originally. I’d forgotten how essential they were.”

Jaskier refilled the bowl and passed the pipe to her. 

She inhaled and said, “it’s funny. I actually thought I’d be willing to give it all up, you know? If I could have my choice back, reverse the cost of transformation, I thought it would be worth it.” Her jaw clenched and her eyes turned sharp as flint. “But I didn’t get to make the choice. _Again_. And I’d forgotten how exhausting the pain is.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier sighed softly and took the pipe when she passed it. “I’m sorry you didn’t ask for this. From what I – well, overheard on the mountain, that’s what made you mad at Geralt, right? He wished on a djinn without consulting you?”

“He bound me to him against my will,” Yennefer snarled. Then she stopped and breathed deeply. “But it’s gone now. The magic tree – Shan-Kayan, whatever – it removed the djinn curse. I’m free, from Geralt at least.”

He couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t sound happy about it. “Yeah,” he said, “I thought that once.” _If life could grant me one wish._ “Then he saved me from Nilfgaard and even though I was mad, even though I’m still hurt, it was like – fuck, Yennefer, it was like the sun had finally emerged from the clouds. He even apologized, you know.” Jaskier smiled wryly. “Well, sort of. He’s really bad at it.”

“I find that entirely unsurprising.” Yennefer huffed. “I thought I would stop – that there wouldn’t be so much – that I wouldn’t _feel_ –”

Jaskier took pity on her. “You thought the djinn created your feelings and you half-expected them to be gone now. But they’re not.”

“No,” Yennefer whispered looking down at her hands. “They’re not.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still stuck in Brokilon Forest, Jaskier struggles with the fact that he is extremely horny and also, the dryads would happily murder him if he tried anything. Meeting Yennefer to smoke would be ideal to take care of his little issue, except he and Yennefer had never been like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Banned Together Bingo prompt Drug Use  
> Takes place after Chapter 4 of [Into the Woods](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23865598/chapters/57927703) aka the one where Yennefer adopts Dara.
> 
> Increased the rating for this chapter, as there is smut!

After the first time, Jaskier had accidentally developed a routine of smoking herbs with Yennefer. He’d hoped they wouldn’t be in this weird, man-hating forest for long enough to develop a routine, but there was still drama going on between Yennefer and Geralt and Ciri and Dara, and frankly, Jaskier was staying out of it.

He may have forgiven Geralt for hurting him, but he wasn’t going to convince Yennefer to forgive him. Geralt would have to do the hard work – and Jaskier had a feeling Yennefer would need a better apology than Jaskier had accepted. 

Jaskier was leaning against a tree in the clearing he’d dubbed the Smoking Area, and he had successfully managed to find it without getting lost this time! Now he was just waiting for Yennefer.

He was also rather annoyed that they were currently stuck somewhere with all these beautiful women he wasn’t even allowed to hit on. Jaskier felt restless and he wished he could just work the excess energy off the way he usually would, but dryads apparently killed their partners when they were done, and Geralt – well, Jaskier wasn’t ready to deal with that just yet. Maybe he might see if Mousesack was free afterwards. Jaskier liked fucking while high – it made everything feel like _more._ He’d been with Mousesack before – many times, actually, back in Cintra. They’d bonded gossiping about Geralt’s arse, in all honesty.

The memory made Jaskier giggle. Yennefer entered the clearing at that moment and at the sight of her, Jaskier felt his giggles fade as his mouth felt suddenly dry and for a moment, all he could think was _fuck, I want her._

Since Jaskier’s default feelings toward Yennefer were a mix of comradery and intimidation, he was actually surprised. But Yennefer had always been beautiful, and that hadn’t changed, even if the ethereal quality was no longer there.

Jaskier thought he might like her beauty better without it. To his understanding, this was _her,_ without the illusions of magic. It just sucked that _her_ came with the pain he knew Yennefer experienced.

But that’s what the herbs were for. To cover up his speechless moment, Jaskier offered her the pipe and she eagerly took a hit. She exhaled slowly, her body gradually relaxed into the tree Jaskier had propped himself against.

Jaskier found his eyes watching her lips as they moved, as they pursed around the stem of the pipe again, then relaxed, curls of smoke escaping as she exhaled. She had a smudge of something – Makeup? Charcoal? – on the curve of her cheek, and Jaskier discovered that he desperately wanted to lick it off of her.

He swallowed hard and forced his eyes away from her. He and Yennefer had never been like that. They circled around each other, of course, but it had always been about Geralt before.

Geralt wasn’t here now. And even if he was, Jaskier doubted either of them were ready for that with him yet. It wasn’t that they couldn’t all separate emotion from sex – they definitely could and had often enough. But it still required _trust,_ and Geralt had broken that with both of them.

He would need to earn it back before Jaskier would be ready for anything with him, honestly. Which made it even more inconvenient that he desperately needed to get off soon.

He shifted in his seat, fidgeting as they passed the pipe back and forth. Then, Yennefer let out a small huff and placed her hand on his leg. “Stop fucking moving, Bard,” she ordered, and Jaskier found himself obeying without conscious thought, muscles freezing and then relaxing.

Jaskier swallowed. “Okay, you’re going to judge me for this, but I am so fucking horny right now. So, uh, just, you know, so you know.” He looked pointedly at the hand resting just above his knee.

Yennefer gave a thoughtful hum, half a smile pulling up the corner of her mouth on the side facing him. Actually, he noticed, she was specifically sitting next to him so that he could only easily see her “normal” side, the side that wasn’t twisted by her spine. 

“You don’t have to hide from me, you know.” He met her eyes and remembered what exactly he found intimidating about her. “Uh, not that you are. But just, you know, in case you wondered. You don’t have to hide your pain or your looks or anything else.” He turned to look at her head on, a soft smile on his lips. “You’re probably aware, but you’re still fucking gorgeous and definitely still terrifying.”

Yennefer made a surprised, pleased sound. “Thank you.”

Jaskier hummed and stuck the pipe in his mouth to halt any other words. He passed it to Yennefer and she tilted her head to look at him with narrow eyes. Jaskier averted his eyes as other parts of his body started responding to the intensity in her gaze, so he was caught completely off guard when Yennefer took a hit, grasped his face in her hands, and brought their lips together. The shock kept him from realizing what she was doing until curls of smoke rose between them, and he opened his mouth, trying to breathe in the smoke and the taste of Yennefer.

He coughed lightly when she drew back and gave her a rueful smile. “Maybe a little warning next time?”

Yennefer scoffed. “You’re just weak. I never cough.”

“Suuuuure,” Jaskier drawled, and this time when Yennefer took a deep inhale, he was ready for her to blow the smoke into his own mouth, sharing it between them. They parted just enough to exhale the smoke, and then they were coming together again, lips brushing and tongues tangling.

They pulled apart and stared into each other’s eyes. “Are we really doing this?” Jaskier asked. “Please say yes.” Yennefer smirked and climbed into his lap, which he supposed was answer enough, especially when she ground down against his hardening cock. “All right then,” he chuckled and cupped her face to kiss her again.

Kissing Yennefer was incredible. One, she had lived a very long time and clearly spent energy perfecting her sex skills (see: magical sex orgy). Two, every time their tongues brushed, it felt like little sparks danced across his tongue. He loved it.

“Could your magic always be tasted?” Jaskier gasped when she moved her mouth to his jawline. Everywhere her tongue brushed, he felt sparks tingle across his skin and down his spine. “Because I’m suddenly jealous of Geralt. Fuck, that’s good,” he moaned when she sucked his earlobe into her mouth.

“You talk too much, Bard,” Yennefer said. She pulled back to unlace her dress. She hadn’t come to Brokilon with any clothes, from what Jaskier understood, but Yennefer was magic. She was hardly going to let a little thing like losing her body keep her from her usual intimidating monochrome style. Nonetheless, Jaskier was pleased when she rose to pull her dress off entirely, leaving her only in black small clothes. Following her cue, he reached behind her and unhooked her bra, kissing her shoulder. Once her chest was bare, she threaded a hand in her hair and guided him down to her breasts. “I have something better for your mouth to do.”

Jaskier groaned and licked across her tits, sucking kisses to the underside and touching everywhere except her nipples. Yennefer huffed in frustration, and rocked against him, her cunt sliding over him through their clothes. “Fuck,” he breathed against her and finally took her right nipple between this teeth, lightly tugging on it, then sucking harshly.

Yennefer’s breath hitched and Jaskier felt a thrill of victory. As he ran his hands up her legs, marveling at how soft her hair was, Jaskier wondered if he could drive her to be noisy. That would be satisfying, he bet, but tonight (and probably always with her, really), Yennefer was in charge. “Get yourself out,” she ordered, and he fumbled with the ties on his trousers without removing his mouth. 

Yennefer let out a chuckle and next thing he knew, her underwear was gone. He released her tit to look down and yep, she was totally naked on top of him. “Magic is awesome,” Jaskier breathed, moving to her other breast.

“Ha,” she let out an amused huff and batted his hands away when they got tangled in his laces. She didn’t even try to untie them, just snapped the laces and reached in to pull him out.

“He-eeeyyyyyy,” His voice hitched halfway through the word when Yennefer rose up and sank down on him without further preamble. Her cunt was already dripping and Jaskier revised his estimate of how sensitive her tits were. He grinned at her, teeth delicately holding her nipple as he pulled away just enough for her to feel the tug. Yennefer groaned and grasped his shoulders, pulling herself up and then dropping down again.

Jaskier’s hands went to her hips. He let her guide the rhythm, but he helped lift her and support her weight. When Yennefer hummed in satisfaction, Jaskier felt like his brain was lighting up with pleasure.

He’d done something right. He’d pleased the most powerful mage on the continent. There was something heady about that and he trailed his mouth up to suck along her collar bone.

Yennefer started moving against him faster, and Jaskier brought a hand around to thumb at her clit. He could feel himself growing close to the edge, too quickly for his reputation, but honestly, he couldn’t bring himself to care. The sparks continued to cascade across his body everywhere they touched, and it made his cock tingle inside her, adding another layer of sensation.

“Fuck, Yennefer,” he groaned, sucking at her shoulder. “Please,” he panted.

“You can come when I do,” she graciously permitted and he groaned, doubling his efforts against her clit and dipping his mouth back down to suck on her nipple, flicking his tongue across it.

Yennefer made a small vulnerable noise and clenched around him, slumping forward against his chest. Jaskier whined and struggled to keep his hips still while she ground down through her orgasm. 

Finally, Yennefer pulled back to look at him and smirked. _“Now_ you can come.”

As if that was all it took, Jaskier arched and fell over the edge, his head spinning in a haze of pleasure.

When he opened his eyes again, Jaskier was slumped against the tree behind him, Yennefer resting against his chest. Jaskier blinked to confirm what he was seeing. In the clearing all around them, what had been grass was now covered with wildflowers. He could see patches of yellow buttercups and dandelions, purple lilacs, pink petunias, blue forget-me-nots, white daisies, and bright red poppy flowers. 

“Whoa,” Jaskier murmured. “Do you always make magic sex flowers when you come?” He was fairly certain not all of those flowers should even be able to grow together.

“What?” Yennefer’s voice was high and sharp, and she twisted as much as she could to look at the flowers around them. “No, what the fuck?”

Jaskier shrugged. “Maybe I’m just that good, you lost control.” Yennefer sent him a scathing look and he laughed. “Worry about all that later. For now – want to make a flower crown?”

Yennefer just stared at him for a long moment before snorting inelegantly. “Fuck it, why not?” She rolled off of him and flopped naked onto the field of flowers. She took a deep breath, and smiled. “They smell nice.”

“And they look pretty!” Jaskier said. “That’s why we should make crowns! Oooh, we can make the kids some crowns! I bet they could use some cheering up! And you basically adopted that Dara kid, right?”

Yennefer hummed. “I haven’t made a flower crown in decades.”

“Well, never too late to start again!” Jaskier exclaimed and plucked a pink petunia and placed it delicately in Yennefer’s pubic hair. The image made him giggle – this gorgeous, powerful woman splayed out in a field of flowers, a pink flower on her crotch. “It’s a metaphor,” he blurted.

Yennefer sighed deeply. “You’re a fucking moron.”

“Yeah, but I’ll still remind you how to make a flower crown.” Jaskier grinned.

“Hmph.” Yennefer leaned up and flicked her fingers, their mess instantly dissolving.

“Well that’s handy! Heh, handy.” Jaskier laughed and started looking around for where they’d dropped his pipe. He repacked the bowl and lit it, taking a long hit, then passed it back to Yennefer for more. “Okay, I think we should make the flower crowns as colorful as possible! We should gather some of everything!”

Yennefer took the pipe and shook her head as he started plucking handfuls of flowers, stems in tact so they could weave them together. Jaskier turned back to grin at her and was surprised by the soft look on her face. His smile turned softer in response, and he offered her a handful of daisies. Her lips twitched and a smile spread slowly when she took the daisies from her and smelled them. 

“Fine,” Yennefer said, her voice gentler than he’d thought it capable of. “Remind me how to make a flower crown.”


End file.
